Quadrangle
by whenshewasgood
Summary: They only have each other, after all. But life isn't always tidy. Tcest.


**Quadrangle**

_WARNING: This story contains turtlecest. If you don't like it, please hit the back button. I promise I won't think any less of you if you choose to turn back now. Everyone has their own tastes, and I want you all to know what you're getting into. Just know that I am very much a fade-to-black kind of writer, so nothing really graphic will show up here._

_I'd also like to give major props to Serendipity1 for her story _Growing Pains and Orange Bitters_, the inspiration for this story. You should definitely check that one out, even if tcest isn't normally your thing._

_For those of you who continue reading past these author notes, I hope you enjoy!  
_

* * *

He'd been hoping to get over his crush on April, but this was definitely not what he'd had in mind.

He told himself it made sense that this would happen. In a species consisting of exactly four individuals, none of them female, this type of situation was bound to happen; had, perhaps, already happened (_his mind shied away from the thought even as it clung to it_). He told himself very calmly that there was nothing wrong with him, that this was probably just a phase and that it did not need to become an issue.

The problem with all that self-talk was that he had never noticed before how much body contact was involved with having three brothers.

They blocked and they punched, they did throws and escapes, they grappled and wrestled and that was just during training. They rough-housed and play-fought, they punched shoulders and gave noogies and piled onto the couch during movie night, and occasionally, when it was really cold, they would all pile into Splinter's bed like they had as children to share his mammalian warmth. (_They never let on to April or Casey that they did this; some deep, shared instinct told them they would not understand._)

He was starting to feel the edges of his sanity peel away.

At least, he told himself, it hadn't settled on any one brother. This meant that he could continue to tell himself that it was just his brain looking for a certain shape, and that it wasn't his fault the only people he knew who fit that shape happened to be his brothers. However, this meant that each and every one of his brothers were part of the problem.

And it was definitely a problem.

He'd never been able to lie to himself (_his brain was too concerned with facts and things as they truly were to have developed the necessary walls in his mind required to lie to himself_) and so it soon became clear that this could not help but become an issue, not with all the touching they did. He suffered in silence because what else could he do, and then one day, without even looking for it, he found something that might have been salvation.

It came, oddly enough, in the form of his brother Michelangelo. They were training, as per usual, and Mikey was squaring off against Leo. It was hand-to-hand combat today, and Mikey was being even more of an annoying monkey than he usually was. In fact, Donatello noticed, he was not letting Leo anywhere near him, earning himself a scolding on lack of seriousness that seemed eerily rehearsed, as though Leonardo had given him this lecture so many times that it was like a script, and he no longer needed to think about it. What caught Donatello's attention about the situation was not Mikey's antics per say, but more the lack of teasing words that usually accompanied them. Mikey was not trying to provoke his brother into doing something stupid, or even just goofing around in general: he was, in point of fact, desperately trying to keep away from Leo.

It was difficult to observe all this, preoccupied as he was with his own imminent beat-down in the form of Raphael, whom he was also desperately trying to keep away from, but for purely practical reasons, like an aversion to having his head smashed in. But from what he could gather while dodging and blocking and countering, it seemed that there was something in Mikey's eyes that didn't quite fit the situation, and then Raph's fist found its way to his head at last, at almost the same moment as the idea that formed itself around the information he had gathered from his observations. Such was the power of the idea that even as he fell to the ground, it continued to form itself, until he was staring up at the ceiling wearing the silly grin he got whenever something electric occurred to him.

"A_ha_," he said, to Raph's annoyed face.

"Move it, lard butt," came his brother's elegant reply. He did so, and continued to watch Mikey and Leo out of the corner of his eye.

Yes, Mikey was definitely trying to avoid letting Leo touch him. He would accept a block or a strike, but anything even resembling a throw or a pin or even a grab would have him dancing away out of arm's reach, prompting yet another mini-lecture, or at least an annoyed sigh from Leo. It was the look in his eyes that convinced Don, however. That hunted look, the fear of being discovered displayed openly in his eyes. If this whole thing was normal, or at least not totally deranged, then it made sense that the others be experiencing it as well. They were all at that age where this type of thing (_or something like this type of thing_) naturally occurred.

Of course it had been Mike, Don reflected. Leo was the master of self-control and probably never thought about sex at all anyway, and Raph reacted to everything with violence and aggression so who knew with him, leaving Mikey, his dear brother Mikey, who he could read like an open book, to be the one to reveal himself. Yes, it seemed that Michelangelo was dealing with the same problem Donatello was, and the relief he felt at this was quickly replaced by gut-wrenching fear: how do you broach a subject like that?

By letting your brother come to you, apparently.

He was in his lab (_as usual, when was he ever_ not_ in his lab?_) trying to bury himself in the plans for an upgrade to their security system (and failing), when Mikey came in.

Now that he knew what to look for and was looking for it, he could tell that Mikey was as close to a breakdown as he himself was. This was evidenced nicely by the fact that he had simply walked into Donatello's lab and sat down on a stool, folding his hands in his lap.

Normal-Mikey would have bounded in, picking up shiny things and knocking stuff over, prompting Donatello to either have a mini-meltdown and pull a mad scientist, or just sigh wearily and ask Mikey for the one millionth time not to touch anything in his lab, depending on what he'd knocked over. This Mikey just sat there, looking around, but without any kind of interest. He was just not looking at Don.

"What's up, Mikey?" he asked, turning away from the plans and rubbing his temples. Mikey gave a compulsive shrug, and automatically reached out to grab the compass sitting on Don's desk. Don let him fiddle with it, relieved at any return to normalcy, however slight.

"Don, how much do you know about… about us? I mean, us as mutant turtles. Like… biologically."

Mikey's tone was very serious, and Don had no urge to tease him for using the word 'biologically'. Mikey wasn't stupid, as he well knew from his tutoring sessions with him. He'd often wondered why it was that his brother worked so hard at keeping up the façade of being dumb. He would drop it sometimes when it was just them, since Donnie already knew that Mikey was plenty competent at math and was much better at English than himself. His artistic abilities also far outshone Don's, who tried to make sure he was at least competent enough to sketch out plans and designs. And Mikey had a certain insight into people that Don knew he himself lacked. Oh, Don could usually tell when something was up with one of his brothers, but Mikey carried that sense to an art form, seeming to possess a superhuman (_super-mutant?_) ability to guess at what exactly was bothering his brothers and even how to fix it. But despite all this, Mikey continued to keep up the act of 'dumb surfer-turtle' whenever anyone else was around. To be honest it kind of drove Don nuts.

"Well, I learned a lot when we were with the Utroms after defeating the Shredder. I could probably answer any questions you might have. What do you want to know?"

Mikey's fiddling with the compass intensified.

"How, um… how much like normal turtles are we?" he asked, face flushing. Donnie leaned back in his chair and regarded his brother.

If he were to let that part of himself go for a moment, he would have to admit that, of all his brothers, Mikey was both the least and the most attractive to him. The least, because there just wasn't much about Mikey that was very sexy, at least not that he thought of as sexy. Raph had an animal aggression that could be pretty stimulating (_why was he even thinking these thoughts, he shouldn't be thinking these thoughts, these thoughts were dangerous_), and Leo was smooth and in control and mature.

But also the most, because when Mikey dropped his dumb-act, he also stopped tuning out Donatello's geek-speak. When the others weren't around, Mikey could be a pretty good sounding board for ideas. Raph didn't have the patience, and Leo always needed everything he didn't understand explained to him before he would let Donatello continue, which was pretty annoying when he was trying to brainstorm. Somehow, it seemed that Mikey's creative flights of fancy regarding his sketches and comics were a lot similar to Don's mechanical or technological epiphanies, and he therefore knew just how to nurture and expand an idea, teasing it out of Don's brain in a way he never could quite manage on his own. Mikey was, for lack of a better word, _inspiring_. And that was pretty darn attractive to someone who, in general, was expected to have all the answers all the time.

And now his brother was asking him about their terrapin natures, and he was pretty sure he knew why. He felt the blood rush to his head, and he tried to pretend he wasn't having trouble staying upright.

"In what way?" he stalled, trying to catch his breath without letting it seem like he was trying to catch his breath. If he handled this right… (_no, not even if Mike feels the same way, you still shouldn't give in, this is wrong_).

"Uh, well, like… I was reading the other day (yeah, I read), and… well, actually I was watching a documentary… okay, I was channel surfing and saw like five minutes of this documentary, and anyway it was about turtles, and it said something about a mating season, and I was wondering, well… do we have one of those?"

It was a question that Don had given a lot of thought to, even before this whole thing had started, even before April had come into their lives and jump started that section of their brains. He had always been interested in their origins, and, tangentially, their unique biology. For much of his childhood he'd had to content himself with their father's old copy of "The Care and Feeding of Your Turtle," which, when he'd gotten to a certain age, had rather amused him. Much of the advice in the book was worse than useless, especially the entire chapter devoted to picking out a suitable aquarium. Once he'd gotten an internet connection he'd practically exploded with research, spending many all-nighters as he feverishly crammed as much knowledge into his mind as he could, like a man dying of thirst dunking his head into a body of water and nearly drowning in his haste to drink. (Eventually Splinter had set boundaries, meaning the computer went to bed at a certain time, which meant so did he.)

The main thing he had learned from all his research was that they had likely been red-eared sliders before they'd been mutated, and that they were not really much like turtles at all.

This was a conclusion he hadn't really shared with his brothers. They were proud to be turtles, and they thought of themselves as turtles, and he just didn't know how to tell them that, biologically speaking, they shared much more in common with humans than terrapins. They weren't even cold-blooded for goodness' sake. And…

"No, Mikey, we don't have a mating season. We're… we're more like humans that way."

He watched as his brother's face fell, and he wondered if Mikey had been telling himself things similar to what he'd been telling himself. (_It would be easier if we _did_ have a mating season, because that could almost explain this whole thing away rather neatly._) Mikey sighed.

"Why do you ask?"

The look on Mikey's face was priceless. _The silly turtle is a_ ninja, Don thought, _he should have a better poker face_. His expression _screamed_ "I have something to hide."

"No… no reason," Mikey said, his eyes everywhere but on Don. "It's been nice talking to you, bro." He made to jump out of his seat, but Don grabbed him and dragged him back. Mikey looked at him wide-eyed.

"This wouldn't have anything to do with why you're avoiding Leo, would it?" he asked, heart in his mouth. This could go wrong, so very wrong, so very easily. He watched Mikey for a reaction. First the guilty expression intensified, if such a thing was possible, and then Mikey froze, his eyes locked on Don's. Donatello willed himself to radiate openness and acceptance, anything to get Mikey to talk to him. Finally Mikey's face crumpled up and he slumped down, putting his head in his brother's lap and started to cry.

Don was extremely glad the others weren't around, if only for his brother's dignity. Not that Mikey really had any, except… he kind of did. He did cry more easily than the others, but he wasn't a crybaby by any means, and he never, _ever_ really let loose in front of them, not like Raph sometimes did when he really lost it, not like they could all hear Leo doing sometimes late at night, not like Don himself knew he did every now and then. Mikey never really let himself _go_ like this, and it both frightened him and kind of honored him, that Mikey trusted him that much. He, hesitatingly, put a hand on the back of Mike's head and rubbed it, pulling the bandana off and trying to reach around him to find that rag (_where was the darn thing when he needed it_) he knew was there without jostling Mikey too much.

At first his brother's sobs were wordless, just a heart-wrenching wailing, but soon it organized itself into words, just broken phrases with no semblance of coherency, things like, "…can't even _look_ at him without…" and "…know he'll_ hate_ me…"

"Leo will not hate you," Don said with conviction. It was unthinkable. The thought couldn't even take root in his mind. Even if Leo didn't feel the same way, even if the thought of it completely sickened him (_which was a horrible thought all on its own_), _hate_ was not an emotion he could ever bring to bear on one of his brothers. Even Leo's doppelganger that Donatello had encountered in that horrible world of Big Brother Shredder hadn't really hated the other Raphael, even after thirty years of animosity. It simply wasn't in him.

Mikey pulled away slightly and looked up at Don with big, questioning eyes.

"No?"

"No," Don said again, locking Mikey's eyes with his own. "And I certainly don't either. So don't worry about that."

Mike put his head back in Don's lap, seemingly satisfied. He placed his brother's hand back on top of his head, clearly an invitation to continue rubbing.

"I notice you didn't say anything about Raph," he said with a touch of humor, alongside the hoarseness. Donnie sighed.

"Who knows with Raph," he said, which was certainly the truth. Raph could end up being totally revolted, or he might not care either way (_though that was unlikely. Raph cared about everything_).

"Well, okay, so you don't hate me, but… well, what _do_ you think? Am I a total sicko who should be locked up?"

Don laughed in spite of himself.

"If that were true, I'd need to be locked up right along with you," he said without thinking. He could feel Mikey freeze under his touch, and he held very still. _This is it…_

Mike sat up and looked at Don, his expression, for once, unreadable. It was a questioning gaze, but Don could see no hint of what reaction the answers might bring. He grinned nervously and shrugged.

"…Leo?" Mikey asked. Don shook his head. "Raph?" Mikey asked with a note of incredulity in his voice. Don gave a "heh" that didn't have any humor in it and shook his head. Before Mikey could continue he added,

"It isn't… anyone in particular," he mumbled. Mikey kept watching him, and he found he couldn't meet his eyes. There was a long silence.

"So, like… what now?"

He looked at Mikey again. _Was that it?_ He let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"I don't know. I have no clue."

Mike simply nodded. That was another thing. When it wasn't life or death (_though it often was life or death, in their lives_) he didn't expect Don to know everything, which his other brothers, and even Master Splinter, tended to do, even about trivial things, even about things he felt he shouldn't be expected to know. Leo would turn to him in the middle of a battle with that _look_ in his eyes, the one that meant he'd better have an answer or else… There was no "or else". Donatello _would_ have an answer, and that was the end of that. Thinking of his brother made him think of something else. A grin spread across his face, and Mikey's posture brightened. He knew that grin.

"I just had a totally evil idea," Donatello said, trying not to shout. "An extremely evil, wicked, bad, wonderful idea."

"Ooh, do tell!" Mike's eyes were alight with the anticipation of a good prank, and it did Don's heart good to see him looking so much more like himself. He took a steadying breath.

"Well… haven't you wondered if Leo and Raph are possibly… going through the same thing?" Mikey nodded slowly. "But they'll never admit it on their own if they are. So…"

His younger brother leapt up and did a happy dance around the room.

"So we _make_ them!" he finished. "Donnie, I have said it before and I'll say it again: you are a mad genius, my bro."

Don grinned uncontrollably. The secret was out, and the world hadn't ended. His brother hadn't completely rejected him. Still wanted to spend time with him. Had, in fact, probably been relieved. He fought down the giddy feeling growing in his chest and turned back to his drafting table.

"All right, we need a plan of action."

"I think they definitely want each other," Mikey said matter-of-factly. "They're always going after each other's throats, it _has_ to be looove."

Don chuckled.

"I think you may be right. But we just want to know if they're having the same problem, not play matchmaker."

"Dude…" Mike said seriously, and Don turned to look at him. Mike was fiddling with his discarded bandana now. "_Would_ we wanna play matchmaker?"

Don could see the question behind the question, and it sobered him. The thought of Leo and Raph… His mind stopped there. It would attempt to go further, and then he would be thrown back by the horror of it. But if that was so horrible, then what did it say about himself, and Mikey for that matter. He gazed at the table top, mind making slow circles.

"We can't tell Splinter," Mikey said abruptly, jolting Don out of his reverie. Don's mind traveled down that path briefly, and it was thrown back in horror once again.

"You're right. He's… he wouldn't…"

"Yeah."

They both knew that their father would not be able to handle the idea that his sons were attracted to each other. Despite his open mind on many subjects, encouraged by his obsession with soap operas, incest was undoubtedly not one of them. Especially when it came to his own sons.

"I mean, do you remember when Jacob came out of the closet?" Don said, feeling foolish at referring to an imaginary person as though he were an actual acquaintance, but Splinter's reaction to that particular plot development in his favorite show had been epic. Jacob (_Don squirmed as he realized he probably knew more details about the lives of Splinter's soap opera characters than he knew about Casey or even April_) was the son of a wealthy business man, and had been on the show since he was three. Splinter would never say so, but he had sort of a soft spot for the boy, and he had taken it rather hard when he'd come out. They had heard enough muttered rants on the subject to feel like Jacob was some relative who had done something to personally offend their sensei. It had taken him over two years to reach the point where he could truthfully say that Jacob's orientation did not bother him, although he tended to scowl whenever Jacob's boyfriend Timothy made an appearance. (He claimed this was because he was convinced Timothy was actually a transgendered girl and also a criminal and therefore not good enough for Jacob.)

Mikey laughed, a trifle nervously. "Yeah."

There was an awkward silence.

"So!" Don said, too loudly. Mike gave him his attention, jerking himself upright. "What's our plan of action?"

"Dude, I'm not sure I want to do this," Mikey said miserably. Don looked at him questioningly, though in truth he wasn't sure he did either. "This is too weird. I kinda… I'd like to just forget the whole thing, you know? Make it all go away."

Donatello nodded. He knew what he meant.

"Let's just forget it for now, then," he said, and Mikey nodded gratefully. For the first time (_in a long time? ever?_), Donatello followed his brother out of his lab when he left, and they ended up playing video games together until the rest of their family got home.

Of course, it didn't end there.

For one thing, Donatello was even more hyper aware than he had been before, because now he had _two_ deadly secrets to keep, _two_ people to watch out for and cover for and lie for. Yes, lie. It killed him to do so, but he had to, over and over again, to Raph, to Leo, even to Sensei, which killed him the most. The only person he didn't have to lie to was Mikey, and that was both freeing and constricting, because though Michelangelo shared the secret, it also meant they had to lie _together_, and that was almost worse than the lies he told only for himself. It drove them closer together, even if they didn't discuss the subject at all. Mikey spent more time in Don's lab just hiding, and Don spent more time with Mikey in front of the TV, hiding in his own way.

Then Leo lost his temper with Mikey, and it almost came out.

Sensei had paired up Leo and Mike again, and it was painfully obvious to Don that Mike didn't want to be anywhere near his brother. It was probably obvious to Leo as well, but he wouldn't be able guess the true reason, and would probably therefore come to the conclusion that Mike was angry with him. And when a brother who wasn't Raphael was mad at Leo, he tended to get in their faces and demand to know why so they could talk it out and end things quickly. (_Of course, he did this with Raph, too. But he tended not to be surprised when it didn't work. Mike and Don were at least not in the habit of storming out of the lair when Leo confronted them about something._) His older brother hated leaving things festering, even when the incident was small enough that ignoring it would make the embers die down and go away. He had to know, had to try to fix things even if the only way to fix them was to leave them alone.

And so Leo halted their sparring match, which he almost never did, and calmly asked Mikey what the matter was.

Don couldn't watch as closely as he would have liked, because Raph didn't stop during sparring unless something life or death was occurring, and Mikey getting lectured by Leo was hardly life or death. From what he could tell out of the corner of his attention, Mikey was either trying to insist that nothing was wrong, or that Leo wasn't the cause of it. Either way, Leo's voice grew louder and louder and Mikey's climbed higher and higher as he got more and more distressed, and then Leo threw down his ultimatum (_tell me or else_). Mikey's arms twitched forward, and Don froze, knowing that Mikey was one shred of self-control away from launching himself at his brother and giving it all away. Being this close to making things right with Leo (_it was that moment when telling Leo what was wrong would mean he could still forgive you easily and without thought; any longer and Leo tended to stay mad even if you apologized_) and knowing he couldn't, had to be killing him. Instead, he gave Leo one last, pained look and ran out of the dojo, leaving Leo looking stunned.

Raph had halted the fight, when it became clear that Don was totally engrossed in the drama, and now he started to go after Mikey. Don grabbed his arm almost without thinking, and hauled him back.

"I'll go," he said, and did so without giving Raph time to argue.

He found Mikey in the lab. He never would have hidden there before all this, but somehow Don wasn't surprised to find him there. He was shaking slightly, hunched in on himself, and Donnie nearly choked on the rush of conflicting emotions that flooded him in that instant: anger at Leo for doing this to Mike, and a powerful need to comfort Mikey. The comfort his brain had in mind was not the kind he would have offered mere weeks ago, and so he approached Mike carefully, laying a hesitant hand on his shoulder, trying to quiet his breathing.

At Don's touch Mikey squinched up his eyes and tears began to soak his mask and then stream down his face. Don sat down next to him and put his arm around him, and Mikey leaned into his brother, sobbing almost as hard as he had the first time. Don held his brother tightly and let him cry on his shoulder, and tried to sort out what he knew.

Mikey was very attracted to Leo, that much was obvious. The word "love" could perhaps be applied to it. And it was probably tearing Mikey up inside to know that these feelings, if they were ever revealed, would most likely be completely rejected. He hated letting Leo down, hated it more than anything else in the world, and he probably felt like he was doing just that merely by having these feelings. The avoidance in the dojo was probably because he didn't want even the slightest hint of his inner struggle to reveal itself, and now he probably felt he'd let Leo down even more by refusing to tell him what was wrong.

And Don kept having to bite back the words, "It'll be okay Mikey." Because as much as he wanted to say them, he couldn't lie to his brother.

Leo wisely kept his distance from Michelangelo for a while after that, though it was like waiting for the other shoe to drop, since he kept studying him as closely as Don had been, and much less discreetly. It was beginning to make Mikey paranoid. Don knew, because Mikey told him so.

He told him this in the lab after escaping from Leo staring intently at him while he was trying to play a video game. He admitted to Don that he was afraid he was going to mess up and do something incriminating while Leo was watching, and just that fear alone was making him act weird. He confessed to feeling as though he were about to go crazy, and he requested that Don take care of Klunk when he was a dribbling moron unable to feed himself, much less his poor kitty.

Don laughed, as he knew Mikey meant him to.

"I don't think it will come to that, Mikey," he said. Then Mike turned his serious eyes on Don, the ones he almost never used, ever, and actually asked how _he_ was doing.

Donnie hadn't really given it much thought. Really. He'd tried not to. Tried very hard. But now, with Mikey being serious and in close proximity, and asking such a leading question, the variables added up in his head and he realized that he had fallen for Mike.

He shivered. Mikey instantly picked up on it.

"What's up, bro?" he said, still with that face. Don flushed and looked away. Mikey didn't need this right now (_or ever_).

"Nothing," he said, trying to be convincing. Mike frowned.

"Not to me, bro," he said. "Don't lie to me." Don felt miserable. He couldn't look at him. Finally he mumbled,

"You're really hot when you're serious, you know that?"

Mike's posture became careful, but he didn't pull away.

"Well, I am the pretty one," he joked softly. Don gave a miserable chuckle and continued to not look at his brother. "Hey, Don, don't… don't sweat it, okay bro? It's no big deal."

"Sure," Don said sarcastically. "That's why we're hiding this from the whole family. Because it's no big deal."

Mikey reached out and turned Don's head to face him. Don held his breath, keeping down the bubble that had formed in his chest.

"Sarcasm doesn't suit you, Don," he said, still in his serious voice. Don began to feel lightheaded.

"Mikey…?" he began.

"Do you want this, Donatello?" he asked, almost whispering. Don was trembling. Mike was totally serious. Don managed to squeak out,

"What about… Leo?"

"Leo isn't here, is he?"

Don jerked back.

"So I'm just some convenient substitute?" he said nastily, hating himself for it. "Should I go get Leo's extra mask and put it on? Would that help?"

Mike pulled away, looking downright stormy.

"Don't lash out at me, bro," he said in a low voice that did not sound angry, just kind of sad. "Pull away if you want, but don't say things you don't mean."

Don felt ashamed. He hung his head. Mikey was right. He was always right about that sort of thing.

"I'm sorry Mikey. I… it's getting to me, too, you know?"

Mikey nodded.

"Looks like we're partners in crime," he said a trifle overdramatically, but Don felt he'd gotten it right on the money.

Leo confronted him the next day.

"I've been noticing that Mikey is confiding in you more than usual lately," he said, fiddling with the same compass Mike had fiddled with before. Don frowned. Leo coming into his lab was almost worse than Mikey (_normal-Mikey_) coming into his lab, because at least Mikey didn't get offended when Don ignored him in favor of his work. When Leo came in it was for a specific purpose, one that he usually felt required Donatello's full attention, and he had soon learned not to try and talk to his brother with half a brain on his work.

"So?" he said suspiciously. Leo was obviously trying to go behind Mike's back, and it grated on Donatello's nerves. Who did Leo think he was, Splinter?

"So, I was wondering if you knew what was bothering him."

Shell, Leo wasn't even _looking_ at him. He _knew_ he shouldn't be doing this, but he was doing it anyway. Don felt a surge of anger on Mikey's behalf.

"You know, Leo, even if I did, I think Mike's made it pretty clear that it's none of your business. So, I don't know what you think you're doing in here, but, please go polish your own shell."

Leo looked up at him, shocked (_it was their Splinter-approved euphemism for another anatomically impossible act_), and Don felt a surge of anger on his own behalf. Did he lose his temper so seldom that his brothers forgot he had one? Leo was the one behaving badly, he was the one hurting Mikey, but here he was, acting like Donatello was the one who was being shocking.

"Don, I…"

"Just get out, will you?" Don turned irritably back to his work, and it was some time before he registered that the door had closed behind his brother and that he'd been staring at the computer screen uncomprehendingly for nearly five minutes. It was another half an hour, trying without success to concentrate, that he figured out what had made him so mad.

It wasn't just Leo's attitude, though that was aggravating all on its own. It was normal Leo behavior, nothing he hadn't encountered before and should have, in fact, expected. And it wasn't just the annoyance he felt on Mikey's behalf, who was going out of his mind to such an extent that it was beginning to show. The part of his brain that always remained analytical and detached presented him with the true reason why Leo had gotten under his shell so badly, and that was that he was competition.

The realization made him sit down heavily in shock.

Was that true? Could he really be that petty? Was he… jealous?

Now that he had said the word, even if only in the privacy of his mind, it rang true. He was jealous of Leo. Jealous that he had captivated Mike's attention so thoroughly without even trying, without even being likely to welcome the feelings he had created so strongly in his brother. And angry. Angry that he had hurt Mikey so badly, made him cry and made him crazy. And angry that even now Leo was still a very attractive turtle who had the power to somehow get under even _Don's_ skin, despite everything.

The conflicting emotions burned and boiled within him, until he was glad when Splinter paired him up with Leo.

They were cross-training, which meant they had switched weapons. Don felt an evil surge of pleasure as he realized that not only would he get a chance to fight Leo, but he would have a distinct advantage in doing so. Leo was plenty skilled with all their weapons, but the bo was his worst. Don wasn't exactly proficient with the double katana either, but he didn't care. Anything to see Leo at a loss, even one second of insecurity displayed on his face. He fought hard, recklessly, and with much more determination that he normally did. Leo was pleased, for the first few minutes, until it became clear that Donatello was out for blood.

Not literally. He would have been the first, even in that state, to reassure anyone who asked that he did not truly wish his brother lasting harm. Oh, sure, a few more bruises than he normally inflicted would be fine, but he certainly hadn't set out to really _hurt_ Leo. But when he saw the opening, his rage had torn down his self-control just enough that he took it, when normally he would not.

And suddenly Leo had twin slash marks on his forearms, raining blood, and everyone was staring at him in horror.

There was a split second where Don knew he could have joined in the horror, dropped the blades, frantically asked his brother if he was all right, and everyone would chalk the incident up to Donnie's legendary incompetence and everything would be, if not okay, then at least… normal.

But the rage was still burning, and so he stood there, letting a thin, pleased smile creep onto his face, and then Splinter was there, ordering him to leave the dojo and go to his room and stay there. Don threw down the swords and left, but not before he caught sight of Mikey's face, which drained the anger right out of his body and left him feeling weak.

His brother had been looking at him with fear in his eyes.

Splinter had never looked so furious. Don had _never_ seen his father look that way, not even when battling the Shredder. It was a tight, barely controlled, white-hot fury that, had Don still been angry, would have blasted his dull red rage right out of the water and into oblivion. Don couldn't look him in the eye.

There was a long moment when Splinter didn't speak—_couldn't_ speak, couldn't seem to find the words. Then he told Don, in a voice tight with suppressed emotion, that as he had obviously deliberately harmed his brother there was no excuse for his behavior. And as there was no excuse for his behavior, he did not want to hear Donatello make one up. And as he did not want to hear Donatello make up an excuse, he did not want to hear Donatello's voice at all, unless he asked him a direct question. And as there was nothing, _nothing_, he could possibly want Donatello to say, he might as well stay in his room until he, Splinter, decided to let him out.

Then he left.

This, Donatello mused miserably before the tears came, was why he was normally a pacifist.

A few hours later Michelangelo brought him his dinner. It was their usual punishment fare, a bowl of rice and a glass of water, but it was comforting somehow. Upon seeing the food and the rising warmth in his chest, Donatello realized he hadn't expected to get fed tonight. Michelangelo didn't look at him, just handed him the bowl and the glass and said,

"Splinter says I can't talk to you."

Don just nodded, and his brother left. He sat down and ate slowly, his eyes puffy and his throat raw. He reflected that if he could have, he would have jumped right out of his own skin at the first chance he was offered, because he was so thoroughly disgusted with himself that even _he_ didn't want to be in his company.

He slept deeply and dreamlessly that night, after a long time spent just staring at the ceiling.

Splinter entered his room late that next morning. Don had tried reading something, but he was too distracted, so when his father came into the room he found Don just lying listlessly on his bed. He sat up, noting that Splinter looked weary and haggard. His stomach gave a great twist of guilt at the thought that _he_ was the cause of that look. He waited as Splinter seated himself on a chair and sat in silence for a long while.

"Donatello," his father began, voice slightly more hoarse than normal. Don's entire body clenched with a sudden fear that the next words out of his father's mouth were going to be words of exile. "I was extremely angry yesterday, and I did not give you a chance to tell your side of the story."

His stomach dropped down to his toes. This was awful. Instead of exile, his father was giving him a chance. His voice was soft and gentle, which was the exact opposite of what Don knew he deserved. He hung his head.

"There is no excuse, father," he said, fighting tears. "I was angry at Leo, and I… I let my anger take control. I am so _ashamed_ of myself right now. I can't believe I did that. I… I don't know what to do."

Splinter reached out to put a hand on Donatello's shoulder, but Don flinched. He didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve his father's patience or forgiveness. Splinter studied him, drawing back his hand.

"Why were you so angry with your brother?" he asked, still in that gentle voice. _We can't tell Splinter_. Mikey's voice echoed in his head.

"I… I can't say," he said, feeling like scum. He wouldn't—_couldn't_ lie, not now, but even refusing to tell the truth felt like he was twisting the knife in his father's heart. But Splinter just kept watching him, as though he were reading Donatello's soul. He was silent for a while.

"Leonardo does claim responsibility for making you angry, but the incident in question happened several days ago. I do not believe you came to practice with the intention of harming your brother, but neither did he provoke you during practice. I am at a loss as to explain why you did what you did. What worries me, Donatello, is that these actions are not consistent with the way you handle anger."

The last words shocked him out of his miserable stupor.

"How I…" He was puzzled. "How _do_ I handle anger, sensei?" He was genuinely curious. He didn't know. But Splinter was silent. Donatello contemplated the question. Slowly he said, "I don't usually get angry. So, I don't know how I handle it. Maybe… maybe I don't handle it very well at all."

"I believe you may be right," Splinter agreed. "Your gentle nature is averse to negative emotions, but that does not mean you do not feel them. I believe you have been locking them away, allowing them to fester and grow, until you exploded as you did yesterday."

"It's always the quiet ones," Donatello muttered. Splinter nodded.

"There is wisdom to be found in that statement. Burying your anger as you do is perhaps more harmful than letting it out. I suggest you meditate on the subject. Find out the true cause of your anger, and then let yourself feel that negative emotion. As you do this, you will find that you can come to terms with and embrace all aspects of your personality, even the ones you do not want to face."

This was too much. Splinter was sitting there, calmly offering advice as though he had simply made a mistake, gotten into his usual trouble, which, granted, did not happen often. But this was no ordinary crime. He had _spilt Leo's blood_, his own brother's life force, and he had done it on purpose and he had _smiled_ to know that he had done so. Clearly there was something very wrong with him, and he turned to Splinter with desperate eyes.

"But sensei, I… this isn't normal. I'm… I'm not like Raph, I don't _attack_ my brothers just because I'm mad at them. And, shell, Raph never really _hurt_ anyone. I… the reason I was mad at Leo wasn't anything near bad enough to make me want to actually… to do what I did. What is _wrong_ with me?"

"There is nothing wrong with you, Donatello—" Splinter began, but Donatello jumped off the bed and began pacing frantically.

"Of course there's something wrong with me. There's something terribly wrong with me! You!" He whirled to face his father, his wits gone. "You were so mad at me last night you could barely _look_ at me. And I deserved it! I—I can't—" He sank down on his knees, crying, head in Splinter's lap like he was a little child again, and Raph had been picking on him or an experiment had gone wrong and Splinter would hold him until his tears had expended themselves and then tell him everything would be all right, and he would believe him. Only this time nothing would be all right, and even if Splinter said so, he couldn't believe him. But he still sobbed into his father's robe, screaming words in his mind his mouth could never say: _I'm in love with Mikey! My own brother! And he's in love with Leo and it made me so jealous I actually cut him with his own katana! I'm a monster, a terrible monster, and nothing will ever be right again._

He felt he got off easy.

Splinter made him do extra meditation and he was confined to the lair for a week, to be on probation after that. He was also to apologize to his brother and patch things up between them, which was the real punishment, and it was bad enough. But Don felt like he should really have been banished, exiled from his family never to be seen nor heard from again. He also knew he was going to have to patch things up with more than one brother, and he dreaded that almost more than he dreaded going to Leo, who didn't truly deserve his ire. He could lie to him with only a small mark on his conscience, and anyway he would be telling the truth about the important things (_I'm sorry, I'm so ashamed, can you ever forgive me_). But he could not lie to Mikey, and he would not even try.

"Mikey, I…" That did not mean that he_ did_ know what to say. Mike had a sad little smile on his face, and he was watching Donnie patiently, like he already knew what Don was going to say, even though he himself didn't. Don felt his blood quicken. Mike understood him so _well_… Maybe he could forgive him.

Mike's arm blurred before he could react, punching him in the gut, sending him crashing to the floor. He stared up at his brother, who flung himself down and slammed Don's head to the floor, making him see flashing lights. He was straddling him, but not like he would have wanted (_like he had imagined, so many times_). Mike was gripping his wrists, painfully, grinding them into the floor. He had a feeling that even if he'd been able to try, he could not have freed himself.

"Why did you do it Don?"

Mike's voice was low and even, his eyes boring into Donatello's mercilessly. No lies. Not to him.

"I was so mad at him," he whispered. "For what he's doing to you. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Mike stared at him for a long time, and then got up and walked away, leaving Don feeling beaten in more ways than one.

Things got worse after that.

Mike retreated, never coming into his lab even to bug him, and he would no longer let Don play video games with him. Leo still acted slightly wary around him, even though he claimed things were back to normal between them. Don suspected things wouldn't even have a chance of going back to normal until the bandages on his brother's arms came off and the marks faded. Even if Leo forgave him, his eyes would still be drawn to the white on green that shouldn't be there, and a black wave of self-hatred would well up and threaten to consume him.

Raph was the only one left to talk to, and somehow it felt like justice.

It was odd, Donatello thought, as Raph nearly missed giving him a third eye with his sai. Somehow the very thing that had pushed him away from two of his brothers had brought him closer to the third. Raph never looked at him with judgment or fear or wariness in his eyes. If there was anything it was… understanding.

Don knew why, of course. Raph had never really forgiven himself for almost bashing Mike's head in with a pipe, and he regarded himself as though he had actually done it, because the only thing that had stopped him had been Leo's hands, holding him back. He alone truly understood what it was like to be so angry with someone you loved that you lost all reason and did something you would regret for the rest of your life. He saw no reason to vilify Don for this. If anything, Don suspected, his brother held him in slightly higher esteem now. Not for hurting Leo, but for finally being human enough to do so. Don was less of a machine to his brother now, and more like someone whom he not only understood, but who understood him.

Don felt that was unfair, considering the reasons behind their twin shames were entirely different.

But Raph would spar with him, when Mike would refuse to and he himself would refuse to spar with Leo. Of course, this left Mikey to his own torments, but Don had ceased to care. Well, he had ceased to admit that he cared. Or perhaps he really was petty and he wanted Mikey to squirm a little as he realized that without Don, he was alone.

The problem with that logic was that Mikey without Don also meant Don without Mikey.

Raph swiped a sai past his head, and he tried to focus. It had been harder and harder lately, as though letting his anger past his guard meant that guard was weaker against other emotions. And Raph was at his best in battle.

Raph took advantage of Don's preoccupation and took him down, making him land heavily on his shell and straddling him, sai pointed lazily in the direction of his throat. Don lay his head back and gave up. This was stupid. He didn't have any more to give. He was so vulnerable right now he thought Raph could do just about anything he wanted with him. And he just didn't care.

"No giving up, Donnie-boy," Raph said. "This match ain't over yet."

"Maybe it is, Raph," Don said irritably, as several things he might want Raph to do to him flitted through his mind.

"It ain't over till I say it's over," Raph said, standing up and circling Don warily. Don stood stiffly. Suddenly he was very, very angry.

"Does that make you the Fat Lady, then?" he snarled, charging at Raph. His brother side-stepped him easily, but didn't take the sweep Don knew he had left open. This made him angrier still. Raph was _toying_ with him.

"Oh ho ho, look who's learning to trash talk," Raph said, clanking his sais together in a "come and get me" gesture. Don swept in low, hoping to make him go down, but Raph jumped over the attack and pinned his bo to the floor. Don growled, surprised at how energized hearing such a noise from his own throat made him. Through the red haze he saw his chance and went for it, swinging his leg up in a high kick to catch Raph in the head while he was preoccupied with Don's staff. But Raph leapt back and blocked it.

"Feel all that anger?" he called, blocking and retreating like he was the teacher, _allowing_ Don to attack him. "Channel it. Bend it to _your_ will, don't let it bend you to its."

Oh, now Raph was giving him _anger management tips_, was he? The rage reached fever pitch, and he knew in a moment he was about to drop his staff and go for Raph's throat. There was only one thing left to do, though Don would never admit it. He took Raph's advice, bending the rage to his will, making it sharpen his thinking instead of clouding it. It was a heady feeling, and Raph began to retreat in earnest.

"There you go, that's the way."

Don finally got a hit in and there was an immensely satisfying _crack_ as his bo met Raph's carapace, making him stumble. He was enough in control of himself now that he did not press the advantage, afraid of what he might do while his brother was vulnerable. But Raph just smiled like he was pleased and clapped Don on the shoulder. Don tore out of his brother's grip, stalking out of the dojo, still seething.

Raph found him in his bedroom later, and shoved him against the wall without so much as a 'good afternoon.'

"You did good earlier," his brother said, his tone casual, total counterpoint to his posture, which was tense and aggressive. Don just let him pin him to the wall, too tired of everything to bother fighting back. Physically, anyway.

"Did you come back for a rematch? Or did you just want to give me more advice on how to control my anger?"

Raph laughed, moving in closer, trapping Don against the wall.

"Donnie, you have such a sharp tongue when you're angry. I like it."

His proximity was making Donnie lose control, and he clenched his hands into fists to keep his them from doing anything stupid. Raph shoved his face into Don's, eyes meeting his.

"You must be so thrilled to have another angry one in the family," Don said, a trifle desperately. "Now you can take me along when you go topside and brood like a gargoyle."

Raph just reached out and put a hand on Don's plastron, making his breath come in ragged strips.

"Raph, what—what are you doing?" There was no rage left to protect him. Only an insane hope and a little bit of fear. Raph looked positively feral.

"Just a little… experiment," he said softly, and pressed his mouth to Donnie's neck.

Don's whole body flushed cold, and then hot, and then tingly. He kept having to remind himself to breathe. His head was fuzzy. Raph was way too close, but that was a good thing, wasn't it? Or was it a bad thing? Raph pressed the whole length of his body against Don's, and Don decided it was definitely a good thing, yes, a very good thing.

"Raph…?" he queried lightly, unable to believe it. Raph pulled away, his motion drawing a gasp out of Don unaware. Behind the red mask his eyes were more open than Don had seen them in a long time, revealing things Don wasn't sure he wanted to see. He was breathing hard too, and there was a little smile on his face.

"Bingo," he said, and Don slumped down to the floor. Raph joined him, with much more respect for his personal boundaries than he'd shown before. "You too, huh?"

Don tried to get his breath back. What Raph was saying finally penetrated his brain, and he nodded.

"And Mikey?"

He nodded again. Raph nodded also, and crossed his arms over his chest.

"So that makes three of us."

"What… what about Leo?" Don had given up trying to understand the world, so he just accepted things as they came, like it was all a dream and he would wake up and wonder what he'd eaten for dinner that night. Raph shrugged nonchalantly, but there was tension in the set of his shoulders.

"Who knows?" he said. "It's Leo. Like he ever thinks about this stuff anyway."

The words mirrored his own thoughts, which of course turned to Mikey, which made the misery he apparently stored in bucketfuls well up again, and he dropped his head to his knees, which were drawn up against his chest.

"So what now?" Raph asked, and Don made an irritable noise.

"Why does everyone always expect me to have all the answers?" he demanded without looking at his brother. "I'm as lost as you are."

But Raph only hmm'd a little as if in thought.

"Then we're all lost together," he said softly. Don pretended he hadn't heard.

Somehow the fact that Raph was in the same boat gave him the courage to try to apologize to Mikey again. His chance came when Leo and Splinter went to the Battle Nexus to visit the Daimyo and his young son, who as far as they could tell pretty much thought Leonardo was a saint. Raph was watching TV and Mikey was sitting listlessly next to him on the couch, his eyes trained on the screen, but without any comprehension. Normally Don would have to gather his courage and his wits for something like this (_somehow this kind of thing was scarier than facing down the Shredder_) but this time he just plunged right in without any preparation. He stood in front of Mikey, blocking his view of the TV, forcing Mike to look at him. He did so, warily and with a bit of resentment.

"Mikey, I'm sorry I hurt Leo. Can you please forgive me?"

It was simple, much less elaborate than something he might have planned, but he thought it was also better. Mike regarded him for a long time. Then something gave way and his face softened, and he sighed.

"Yeah."

Don felt something unharden in his chest, and he smiled. Mike patted the couch next to him, and Don joined him. They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, and then Raph said, out of the blue,

"You really got it bad for Leo, don't you Mike?"

Mike stiffened and looked like he was about to jump off the couch. He gave Don a terrified, betrayed look, and Raph chuckled.

"Don't worry, I just figured it out, okay? You ain't exactly hard to read, you know."

Mike relaxed, a little, but he was still watching Raph warily. Raph sighed and switched off the TV, turning to his brother.

"Quit shaking, Mikey, it's cool." Then he let out a fast breath and shook his head. "No, it's not cool. I hate seeing you like this." He flashed Mike a cocky grin. "Why don't you forget about Leo and try me? I promise I won't lecture you unless you really want me to."

His tone was light but his eyes said otherwise. Don watched Mikey watch Raph, and felt the beginnings of anger creeping up his veins. Mike looked wary, unsure. Don decided that since not planning had worked well so far this evening, he might try it again.

So he reached around his brother and pulled him close to him, glaring at Raph. Mikey twisted around to see his brother's face, but Don's eyes stayed locked with Raph's, who was regarding him with narrowed eyes. They stayed like that for a long moment, and then Mikey's slightly strained but genuine laughter echoed through the lair.

"Are you guys gonna fight over me?" Don and Raph both shook themselves and flashed each other apologetic smiles. Mike continued. "Because there's totally no need. There's enough of the Mikester to go around."

He flung his arms around both brothers' shoulders, pulling them to him. They laughed at his joke, but Don noticed that Raph burrowed down closer to Mike, making sure every inch of flesh that could be pressed together was. Don decided to do him one better, and flung a leg over Mike's possessively. Raph chuckled, and flung his leg over Mikey's other one. They were now a Mikey sandwich on the couch, Mike looking a little out of his element. His voice was shaky as he said,

"Hey, guys, I don't know if…"

Don and Raph practically threw themselves off their brother, retreating to opposite ends of the couch. Raph turned the TV back on, and they pretended to watch it. After one show ended and another had begun, Mikey asked the lair in general,

"Do you guys think we should do this?"

They didn't have to ask what he meant.

"Well, we're brothers," Raph mumbled. "It's kinda weird, you know."

"We're not biologically related," Don supplied, though the truth was he didn't think that had much to do with their brotherhood. The others thought so as well. More silence.

"I just keep thinking… Leo's _gotta_ know." Mike sounded like he was at confessional, but Don didn't mind and he didn't think Raph did either. "How can he _not_ know? But, it's like… why would he even think it? And I'm afraid it's going to slip out somehow, and I kind of _want_ it to, you know?"

"I hate sparring now," Don said, in a similar tone. Mike nodded. "I used to not mind it, but it's practically torture now."

"I can't even fight Leo anymore," Raph said, and they turned to look at him.

"Dude, you fought with him this morning," Mike supplied. Raph shook his head.

"That was just an argument. We don't—I can't _fight_ him anymore. Cuz, like you said… it might slip out. And I think he's starting to notice."

"I can't even look Master Splinter in the eye anymore," Mike said, and his brothers made noises of agreement. Raph stood up suddenly, looking agitated and paced a few steps.

"Donnie, I know you don't know everything, but… I mean, there's gotta be _something_…"

Don sighed. He knew what Raph wanted.

"There are no females in our species. It was bound to happen sooner or later, I guess. That's all I have."

That seemed to calm him somewhat, and he sat down again.

"Does that mean… do you think—Leo?"

"Who knows," he said dully. He hated the very topic of Leo. Mike shifted in the couch, looking sideways at Don. Don let him look. Finally he spoke.

"Donnie, why… why _did_ you hurt Leo?"

Don sighed, feeling Raph's eyes on him as well as Mikey's.

"I hate the way he's driving you crazy," he finally said. "And I think I'm going a little crazy myself."

Mike laughed a little, and then they were all silent again, busy pretending to watch a sitcom about people whose lives seemed so remote from their own they may as well have been aliens.

"Look," Raph's voice interrupted the silence. "I don't know about you guys, but I'm glad I'm not the only one."

Some measure of tension was released, and Mike nodded. Don said, "Yeah."

Then Mike and Raph got into a fight about what movie to watch and Donnie made popcorn, and eventually they fell asleep on the couch, all three of them together, like they hadn't done since they were children.

Don hadn't been exaggerating when he said he _hated_ sparring now. For instance, it had almost been not a total disaster sparring against Raph back before he knew Raph was one of them. But now he felt like he would really have rather stayed in bed for the rest of his life and to hell with ninjitsu.

Because knowing that Raph knew, and that Raph knew he knew, and on and on into logical oblivion, meant that he was having to keep track of a thousand things at once (_don't get distracted, don't get too close, but don't look like you're avoiding him either_), his mind pulled into a thousand different directions, and even worse than not being able to concentrate on any of them was simply knowing that he was so ragged by now that he was probably going to give them all away.

At least Raph didn't try to tackle him again.

Which was more than could be said for Leo.

He had apparently decided that Mikey needed to spend most of practice on his back, and for all of Michelangelo's gymnastic abilities, Leo was simply a better ninja. He flipped him, sweeped him, threw him, and pulled him down to the ground time and time again, and Mikey was getting exhausted just trying to keep a handle on himself. Don and Raph's match was getting less and less serious as they both tried to keep part of their attention on Mikey, and then their youngest brother snapped as Leo sent him thudding down to the ground again. Raph and Don watched in fascinated horror as Mikey pulled Leo down on top of him and embraced him tightly. What he might have done next they never found out, as Splinter's cane came down in a sharp tap that reverberated around the dojo.

"My sons!" he called. "Kneel."

They did so, Michelangelo hanging his head. Don's stomach was in knots. What had Splinter guessed? What was he going to do now? What did Leo think? The look on Splinter's face was weary, more weary than Don liked to see in his father. He took several deep breaths before opening his eyes and piercing them all with a sharp stare.

"My sons," he repeated, in a much softer tone. "You are young men and I confess to being out of my league in certain matters concerning your upbringing. I had hoped this situation would resolve itself, but I see now that I must intervene." Don couldn't breathe. _He knows_. The thought swirled dizzily in his mind and he couldn't even begin to imagine what was coming next. All he was aware of was the churning in his stomach and the pounding in his head. Splinter sighed, and continued.

"I admit I have no guidance to give you, no advice. You are on the cusp of adulthood, and though I have raised you as brothers, you must decide yourselves what your relationship to each other will be in the future. I do not believe that this must tear our family apart, though it may change things irrevocably. All I ask is that you remember the bonds that bind you, forged in battle and in brotherhood, and that whatever you decide, I will remain your father. I…" Splinter seemed to hesitate, but the smile he gave them was genuine, if a little sad. "I give you my blessing, my sons, whatever you decide, as long as you remain my sons."

And he turned and walked to his room, shutting the door behind him softly. Don told himself to breathe, ordered his lungs to expand and contract. He couldn't move. His brothers were likewise frozen. Eventually Mikey spoke.

"Did Splinter just… do what I think he just did?"

"It looks that way," Don breathed, aware that he was disassociating a little bit. He tried to come back to reality, and managed to look around at his brothers. Michelangelo looked pale and a little shaky. Raph's face was expressionless, which was so uncharacteristic as to be frightening. Leo…

Leo looked confused, the bastard.

"Guys, what is going on?" he demanded. "What was Master Splinter talking about?"

"Like I said, guys," Raph said, standing. "Leo doesn't have a clue." He looked down at Leo with pitiless eyes, and cracked his knuckles. "Shall I give him one?"

Leo, sensing a challenge, was on his feet as well, stance ready, eyes guarded. Mike stood up and put his hand on Raph's arm.

"Raphie, what are you going to do?"

Raph turned a sympathetic smile on his younger brother.

"Don't worry, Mikey, I won't hurt him. I'm just going to explain things."

Mike looked frightened, and Leo looked confused and wary. Don stood.

"You guys can leave, if you want to," Raph added, and advanced on Leo. Don, sensing what was afoot, grabbed Mikey by the arm and dragged him out of the room.

They sat tensely in the lab for some time, waiting for sounds of fighting to break out. But none did. Only their brothers' voices, muffled and indistinct, could be heard.

"Don, what do you think? About what Splinter said."

Don turned to his brother. His brother, the guy who had driven him crazy as a little kid, who bounced off the walls (sometimes literally), who broke things, who acted dumb when he was really smart, who was _inspiring_. He wanted to tell him what he meant to him, but he didn't know if he could. Not now, not when Mikey's happiness might be just around the corner.

"I was really surprised," he said, and it was part of the truth. Mike made a face. Don laughed and tried to elaborate. "I guess… things are going to be different now. But… we don't have to hide how we feel. And that'll be nice, I hope."

"Yeah."

Leo was coming out of the dojo, a subdued look on his face. Raph followed, looking triumphant. They both made their way to where Mike and Don were. Leo lifted his head to look at Mikey, and said in a quiet, uncharacteristically soft voice,

"Mikey, can I talk to you?"

Mikey nodded, swallowing nervously. He went with his brother, turning back once to Don, eyes searching. Don used the very last of his strength to give his brother an encouraging smile. Then he closed the door of the lab, sank down in a chair, and laid his head carefully on his computer table. He didn't even have the energy to startle when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He had forgotten Raph was there.

"You got it pretty bad for Mikey, don't you?"

Don gave a great sigh by way of an answer. Raph gave a dark chuckle.

"I figured. Poor Donnie."

"Yeah, go ahead and gloat. I don't mind." Don did not know where these barbs were coming from, but he rather almost liked the dark pleasure he got when something hurtful came out of his mouth.

"I ain't gloating," Raph said, and Don realized that was true. Raph hadn't been sarcastic at all. He turned his head to look at his brother. He was sitting on the medical cot, looking at Don with eyes that had none of the cockiness, none of the rage, none of the aggression that were normally there. He looked… vulnerable.

"…you have it bad for me?" he asked, softly. Raph dipped his head once, not taking his eyes off his brother. Something—_everything_—about the situation struck Don as being immeasurably sad.

"At least Mikey will be happy," he said. "I hope."

"I kinda doubt it," Raph said. Don looked at him again. "I ain't sure, mind you, but I'm pretty sure Leo's got it bad for me."

Don stared at his brother, working out what exactly that meant.

"Do you mean to tell me…" he started, and Raph gave a horrible laugh.

"Yup. We're one big, happy love quadrangle."


End file.
